


In Another Life

by academicrose



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Angst, F/F, Friends With Benefits, Future Fic, LIKE A LOT OF ANGST, Law School, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Unrequited Love, quinntana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27780229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/academicrose/pseuds/academicrose
Summary: Quinn, an aspiring law student, has an amazing life ahead of her. With loving boyfriend Finn, supportive parents, and a course of study at a prestigious law school in New York City, she's the poster child of success. Could she be harboring a deep secret that could potentially ruin things for her?
Relationships: Quinn Fabray/Santana Lopez
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37





	In Another Life

And she's just– almost... right... there. Release. She crashes back down to the mattress, feeling an orgasm pulsing through her body. She glances down to the other end of the bed to find her lover, raven haired and sultry with lust. Maybe something more. They both breathe heavily, trying desperately to catch the hot and heavy air into their lungs. Their eyes lock, never wanting to escape each other, and an elated smirk creeps onto the woman's face. 

"So," she begins. "what happens next?" 

This is a rhetorical question. She knows precisely what will happen next– they will hold each other tightly for a few hours more, softly brushing the other's bare skin, melting only into each other. She will know no greater comfort than to be in her lover's arms. Then, she will swiftly leave the apartment in a hooded jacket, pay a cab (with cash, of course), and quietly sneak back into her small apartment. She will crawl into bed, trying her best not to wake her faithful boyfriend. 

"Where were you?" he'll sleepily mutter. 

"Studying at the library again. Big test tomorrow." she'll reply. It's always the same. 

But that's for later. For now, she just asks the question. It's hackneyed, almost a joke, even. Every time she gets the same answer. It's always a flirty, "Well, you could walk out first. Or... we could make it a two-time thing?" It's a quote from their first time together. Now, they tease each other with it. She never grows tired of their playful wits, even when it's become flirtatiously sarcastic. 

"Shh." Her lover replies today. "Just stay with me." Mumbling those last words directly into the crook of her neck, holding her more intently that she had ever been held before. 

This isn't the script. Where has the witty dialogue gone? The archetypal characters, the recurring storyline? There is something vulnerable about her lover today– even the sex wasn't as quick and rough. Today it was akin to dry red wine on a winter day, while the other times were vodka in the summer with fireworks. She doesn't question it. They hardly talk these days, so much as _scream._

Quinn doesn't know if it's the long day, or the genuine confused empathy that she feels for her lover, but she resigns her curiosity and holds Santana how she _needs_ to be held– how they both _need_ to be held. They stay for hours, with limbs and breathing tangled until it is just shy of the morning. It's 6AM. The sun is peeking through the long cotton curtains, hitting Quinn's eyelids. She begrudgingly tears herself from the warmth of her lover's sheets to check her phone. It's 6 AM. 

"Shit!" She mutters quietly under her breath. "Shit." She hadn't meant to fall asleep. Quinn casts a gaze onto Santana, who is still sleeping. She looks so beautiful. She's clutching the part of the blanket where Quinn once lied, her breath slightly hitching as she slept. Quinn goes to collect her things and with one last glance at her lover, she heads out the door and down the elevator. 

"You're out late this time." She hears the voice of Jeffrey, Santana's nighttime doorman. He saw Quinn leave the building at roughly the same hour every time, and they quickly became acquaintances when Quinn waited for a cab. "I was starting to worry that Santana had accidentally locked you in." 

"I must have lost track of time. I'm such an idiot." 

"Don't worry, I'll call you a cab. Fix your hair." Quinn frowns. Her hair is probably a mess. She needs to text her boyfriend. 

_To Finn: Tina and I accidentally pulled an all nighter while studying. I'll be home soon._

Had it not been for his voluntary coaching of a local high school football team, Finn would have been heavily asleep right now and Quinn could crawl back into bed without any notice. 

_From Finn: Ok. Missed U. <3 _

As much of a dolt as he could be, Finn was a sweetheart. Quinn imagines she'd love him if she could. 

Jeffrey calls to Quinn, holding the taxi door open for her. She makes her way to the car and shuffles in. She's going from the Financial District to Washington Heights, where both she and Finn reside. Sitting in the cold leather lined backseat of the taxi, she begins to schedule her day in her head. 

First, her corporate law course. She'll need to leave around 7:30 if she wants to get coffee and a bagel before class at 8:30. She also needs to water the plants in the apartm– 

_Santana's planting lush kisses against her neck, and she takes time to carefully kiss every spot that makes Quinn go wild._

And she'll need to catch the subway no later than 7:40, so that– 

_She's desperately moaning Quinn's name, again and again until her vocal chords are tired._

She can meet Tina in front of the library and they can head into class together. 

_Her breathing is labored, and Quinn can tell she's almost there. Her body writhes under Quinn._

Shit. She can't concentrate. She resigns her paltry attempt at planning and glances out the window, almost home. It's 6:20, meaning Finn has ten minutes before he needs to leave for practice. 

"Excuse me," she says. "Could you please stop here?" 

"Are you sure, miss? You're not for another ten blocks." 

"Yes, I'm sure. I just need to run a few errands. Thank you." 

She hands the driver a set of bills and heads out to walk. The air is crisp and it feels like mint in her lungs. It will take her about ten minutes to walk to their apartment building. 

She doesn't realize that she makes it there in less than ten minutes, and suddenly she is stopped by Finn heading out of the building. 

"Quinn!" He walks up to her, lightly kissing her on the lips. She winces, but that is expected. 

"What happened to you? You look like a wreck. Your makeup is a mess and you don't have your jacket, and... is that a bruise on your neck? Did someone punch you? I'll kill them." 

"Shit." Quinn stammers. She raises her head up to meet Finn's eyes. "I'm fine. I was just in an uncomfortable studying position all night. I must have forgot my jacket." 

"Alright, well, I'm headed out. Freshen up a bit. I left some coffee in the pot." 

"Thanks." He plants a rough kiss on Quinn's cheek and she watches as he leaves. 

She grimaces at the image of herself in the mirror when she makes it inside to the apartment. _Disgusting,_ she thinks. 

She hardly ever gathers a different reaction from herself when she looks in the mirror. Sometimes she doesn't see anything in the mirror. Just an image. Her prolonged self-opposing staring contest is interrupted by a well timed message alert from her cell phone. 

_From +12125550123: IMG.jpg_

Santana texts her a picture of the jacket. Quinn feels bad for not having Santana's number saved, but she figures it's for their safety. Her safety, mostly. 

_From +12125550123: IMG2.jpg_

Quinn opens the second picture and instantly grows red at the image. It's a picture of her lacy black bra, which she has just now realized she wasn't wearing. How could she have been so careless? She hastily goes to text a reply. 

_To +12125550123: Sorry. I must have forgot it. I'll get it next time I come._

_From +12125550123: Don't need to. I'll send someone to drop it off at your place._

_To +12125550123: Do you know where I live?_

_From +12125550123: Of course I do. Do you even know who you're talking to?_

_To +12125550123: You really don't need to do that._

_From +12125550123: I insist._

Quinn smiles at her phone. Santana had always been a considerate and chivalrous person. In another life, Quinn would love Santana. They would be happy together and the world wouldn't feel so heavy on her shoulders all the time. Quinn would be a successful corporate lawyer, and Santana would have her company, and they'd just be _so happy._

But that's wishful antics. For now, Corporate Law 101.

**Author's Note:**

> Trying out writing fic! Let me know what you think. I loved toying with the idea of a Quinn-Santana secret romance. Also- the phone numbers are fake, so don't try calling them. Should I make this a multi-chapter fic?


End file.
